Pseudonym
by Tegaladwen
Summary: None of the names he'd been known by had ever quite felt like they fit. Not even Jim. When Jim is lost, it's up to Bones to help him find himself. Academy era. Jim/McCoy friendship.


_A/N: This is just a quick little fic that came to mind late at night. I didn't really edit it; I used it as an exercise to get me back into writing. Because it was quickly written, it may be a little out of character and flawed in many ways, but I felt that I should post it anyway since you haven't seen much of me in the past few months. It is also the first fic I've ever written for Star Trek, so gentleness would be much appreciated. :)_

 _Warnings: mentions of child abuse and torture_

 _I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Jim Kirk never quite felt like a person. He was just a collection of adjectives, of pseudonyms, of worthless words that never fit right. He was a survivor, a fighter, a worthless, womanizing, idiotic, broken, genius conglomeration of meaningless words. Nothing was _him._

To his mother, he was James when she bothered to acknowledge his presence at all. Sometimes he wasn't sure she knew he existed. Hell, _he_ wasn't even sure he existed. James was a neglected, intelligent, reckless, dumb kid. And he wasn't that. He wasn't anything.

According to Frank, he didn't even have a name. He wasn't even human. He was just a punching bag of skin to bruise and bones to break. He was just a body with no brain, a terrified ant under a magnifying glass being tortured for fun. He'd been sent away from that life. It wasn't him either.

To Kev and Tom and the rest of the Nine, he was J.T. He was wild with hunger and cold-blooded out of a motherlike protectiveness of his kids. He was a killer, a thief, a broken shell of a boy who had lived beyond his worth. He was hunted, a feral animal bent on not being caught. He was tortured within an inch of his life from hunger and fear and the lashes of Kodos's whips. Once Starfleet had come, J.T. had let himself die on Tarsus IV, and out of his skin stepped a young man with no identity, no home, no family, nothing to go towards but plenty to run from.

To the stream of women he'd been with, he didn't have a name. He was just a one-night-stand, a drifter, a womanizer, a scumbag, a good fuck, a bit of fun. He was a discarded toy, made to be used once and tossed back into the pile. He wasn't just that, he thought, but he sure as hell wasn't anything else either. He was nothing.

To Captain Pike he was Kirk. His father's son. The legacy of a man who had given his life to save so many others. He was an opportunity, a project. He was untapped potential with a bloody nose and a broken, wasted spirit. Pike knew he was a man who couldn't resist a challenge, and he'd made him into something else: a Starfleet cadet. He was numb to it all. Everything was changing, new labels were being applied, things were _happening_ , but not to him.

Now, going to the Academy, he was Jim, but the name felt strange rolling off his tongue, as if it was a shirt that fit too tight. But that wasn't new. His names were always just masks. They weren't _him._ They were never _him._ He was nobody, no one. He was a puzzle piece that wasn't part of picture that this world was trying to create.

When he introduced himself to the man next to him on the shuttle, he stumbled a little over the name. But the guy, _Bones,_ didn't notice a thing. He spoke Jim's name like a damn anthem from day one, so assured and casual but so full of meaning that Jim himself couldn't help but listen.

* * *

He was drunk the night everything changed. Bones found him in their room, sitting in the middle of the floor, eyes closed, trying to disappear into the nothingness where he knew he belonged. When the doctor asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, Jim couldn't reply. He was just a ghost. Why should he bother to speak? Jim would fade into the background soon enough anyway, just like everyone else he said he was. Everyone else he _never_ was.

But Bones wouldn't shut the fuck up. He was kneeling in front of Jim now, hands on his shoulders, asking questions Jim couldn't answer. But Bones sounded so damn worried, and whether he liked it or not, McCoy was his friend ( _Jim's_ friend), and he owed him a couple of words at least.

He opened his eyes and looked at Bones, and said, "There are too many fucking names, and none of them are mine," he said, and, after taking a large swig of alcohol, managed to get up the courage to admit what he'd known all along. "I'm nobody."

There was a pause, so full of tension that Jim had to close his eyes again to escape it.

Then, Bones started talking. "Jim, you're… Listen kid, I don't what what the hell you're thinkin,' but you're sure as hell not nobody. Just… what's goin' on, Jim? I'm… I'm here for ya."

And maybe it was the anthemic way that Bones spoke this name, or the gruffness in his voice that he only acquired when someone he cared about was at death's door, or the fact that Jim had gotten closer to the doctor than he'd realized, but finally, _finally,_ he told the man everything. He told him all the names he'd had and the ones he hadn't, all the adjectives people had thrown his way and how they never quite stuck, how he was a square peg in a circular hole, how there just wasn't room for him anywhere he went, how he had long outstayed his welcome in this life, always living as an imposter in someone else's shoes that were never going to fit him no matter how hard he tried.

And Bones listened, just listened, until Jim's voice faded into nothing. He cleared his throat after a couple of minutes of silence, and spoke in a voice that was so unlike his usual sarcasm that Jim barely recognized it. "Kid- _Jim,_ I-" Jim looked up at his friend to find that the tear tracks on Bones's face matched his own. "Damn it, kid. I- I'm a little lost here, and I don't know everything-"

"You don't?" Jim said, trying for his usual wit but falling dismally short.

"Shut up and listen to me, alright? I'm already havin' trouble thinkin' of what to say without you jumpin' in." He gave his friend a small smile. "I don't know everything, kid, but I do know this. You're not some fucking mess of things other people said about you. They don't know shit. Other people don't know a damn thing when it comes to you or me or anyone else. They don't know what you've been through, and they don't get to decide who you are because they thought they knew you once. They only know a bit of you, and granted, it's all a part of you, I'll give 'em that. But only you get to decide how it affects you and only you get to decide who you are _now_. James, and J.T., and Kirk, they were all you once, or maybe they weren't, I don't know. Either way, you're the one that gets to decide how they made you what you _are._ _Who_ you are.

"Look, darlin,' I really don't know what to tell ya, but I do know that the person sitting in front of me sure as hell fits into Starfleet, he fits everywhere I've seen him. And he… he fits into my life. You're my best friend, Jim."

Bones was lost for words, just looking at his friend, sitting brokenly and drunk on the floor.

Jim blinked at the ground. _You're my best friend, Jim._ He didn't trust himself to speak, not a single word, because he didn't want to forget the way that Bones had said _Jim_ that time. LIke he believed it, like Jim wasn't something to be tossed aside, wasn't worthless, wasn't on death row, wasn't nobody. _You're my best friend, Jim._ Those words bounced around in Jim's head, and he waited anxiously for the familiar uncomfortable twinge at being put somewhere he didn't belong, but… it never came.

For the first time in his life, Jim knew where his place was. It was right next to his best friend, a man who was with him through thick and thin, a man who spoke his name like it was home. The man who made him realize that he wasn't James, J.T., Kirk. He wasn't a reckless, worthless, wild, cold-blooded, womanizing _nobody._ He wasn't a conglomeration of adjectives and masks but of experiences and people, of traumas and joys. He knew who he was, and he was _Jim._

"Bones, I… thank you."

He couldn't think of anything else to say, but he knew that his friend got the gist of the gratitude he was trying to express. Bones had done the impossible. He'd given Jim his life, and Jim was going to do his best to live it as himself, with his friend beside him the whole way.

 _A/N: I hope you liked this short little fic! If you care to, I would love it if you'd consider leaving a review! Thank you for reading! :)_


End file.
